


Harrisco Valentine's Day Drabbles

by whatsinausername



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Speed Dating, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Tumblr Prompt, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 15:37:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsinausername/pseuds/whatsinausername
Summary: Tis the season! A collection of schmoopy prompt fills from Tumblr.





	1. proposition bear

**Author's Note:**

> terrie01 asked:
> 
> Tell the other person "I love you" when they are asleep.

Things had happened so fast.

Cisco stares up at the ceiling, as if the words _yes, that all happened_ might appear there to reassure him. They don’t, of course. So he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and tries to reassure himself, even though there’s arguably never been anything he was worse at.

Things. Things had happened. Too fast.

Thing 1: 

The breach alarm goes off and it’s Harry, hopping into Cisco’s world just as suddenly and easily as he’d hopped out so many months before, and he’s holding a teddy bear the size of a small horse and looking as nervous as Cisco’s ever seen him.

“Hi, Harry,” Cisco says, with a chuckle so it doesn’t sound like _Where the hell have you been_. “Did you win a prize at the fair?”

Harry’s brow immediately crunches up, like he’d made a joke and had been so sure Cisco would get it. “No, Ramon, of course I didn’t.”

Cisco raises his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, well, of _course_ not.”

Harry takes a step forward, stops. “Is this not --” takes a breath, takes a step -- “you know. Customary?”

“I can’t _wait_ to hear what custom you think involves a stuffed animal big enough to take on Grodd --”

“Ramon.” He’s close now, and Cisco can hear his voice shaking, his atoms spinning. “I thought, because Wally -- the last time, with Jesse, he had one for her, so I assumed --”

Cisco’s heart gets it before his brain does, so his blood is already thumping while his mouth is saying, “Spit it out, dude.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “I should have just brought a Proposition Cube.”

Cisco blinks. “What.”

“I’m trying to _ask you out_ , you buttmuffin.” Harry’s looking at the ceiling, and the bear’s nose has flopped into his hair, making it stand up staticky. “I brought a bear because I thought that’s what you people do. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

He looks at Cisco then, and the annoyance in his eyes is cut with nerves, cut with hope, cut with something Cisco had never in a million years thought he would see in Harry’s eyes. But he’s seeing it now. So, of course, he runs away.

Thing 2:

To the workshop, of course he goes to the workshop, and of course Harry knows that’s where he would run to. And when Harry comes in, he doesn’t have the bear, and Cisco has words for all things he couldn’t say.

“Is this your _balance?_ ” he shouts, and it’s harder and closer to tears than he’d intended, so he shoves Harry in the chest because he might as well commit fully. “Nothing, for _months_ , and then you turn up with a bear and expect me to fall into your arms?”

Harry sways with the push, sways gently back. “I don’t _expect_ anything, Ramon.”

Cisco scoffs. “Right, well, _good_ ,” he says, and tries not to make it sound like _You told me you loved me, and I expected you to stay, and you left._

“I’m sorry for taking so long.” Harry sways closer, further than the pendulum of Cisco’s anger should have taken him. “I just -- I thought you unbalanced me, Ramon. But it turns out I’m actually all lopsided without you.”

The storm inside Cisco doesn’t still, exactly, but the wind shifts, blowing from somewhere softer and warmer. “That was a middling metaphor at best,” he says, looking for the laugh in Harry’s eyes and finding it. “Guess you didn’t fill up any of those PhD-shaped spaces with poetry lessons.”

“I could go take some poetry lessons and then come back.” 

“Nuh uh.” Cisco shoves Harry in the chest again. Lighter this time. “That would involve you leaving again.”

Harry grabs Cisco’s hand before he can retract it. “So you’re not angry?”

“Not anymore. Not if you’re gonna stay.”

Harry grins, easier and brighter than Cisco’s ever seen him. “That was fast,” he says, and Cisco tugs him into his orbit.

Thing 3:

It’s the craziest and also the simplest thing, how Harry’s just _there_ now, snoring into the pillow with an arm flung over Cisco’s middle, and Cisco’s trying remember how every had happened so damn fast.

(“Tell me how you want it,” Harry had breathed in his ear. “Tell me what you need.”

“Slow,” Cisco had said. “Let’s take our time.” And Harry had obliged. Until, that is, Cisco had started gasping _faster, Harry_ , and then he had obliged that, too.)

Cisco watches Harry’s almost-peaceful face, wondering why it took them so long to solve the puzzle when the last piece slid in so easy. Wondering why he denied himself this for so long. Wondering where the bear went, and where in the workshop he can put it to annoy Harry most efficiently.

“I love you too, jackass,” he whispers.

And Harry snuffles awake, because he’s always been the worst sleeper. “Hm?” he says, only halfway back in the world.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Cisco says, and tries not to make it sound like _I said I love you, you --_

and then he remembers that he doesn’t have to pretend anymore, and he kisses Harry’s nose and whispers 

“I love you.” 

And Harry smiles, and pulls Cisco closer.


	2. central city cingles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @saucy-kate asked: As someone who has done this on Valentine’s Day…terrible speed dating. Harry and Cisco both attend intending to be Heterosexual and then end up meeting each other instead.

“Jesse.” Harry stares at what was very clearly a rec center that hasn’t been renovated since the ‘80s. “This isn’t Big Belly Burger.”

Jesse probably pulls a muscle rolling her eyes. “Brilliant, Dad,” she says. “I can see why they call you the brightest mind of your generation.”

“This isn’t funny, Quick,” Harry growls, trying not to gawk at the sign that reads _Central City Cingles Present: Speed Dating Valentine’s Edition!!_

“Did you really think my Valentine’s Day plans were eating burgers with you?” Harry shrugs, and Jesse throws her hands in the air. “I have a date, Dad.”

“Oh, so – so not only are you dropping me off at, at undisclosed locations without my consent, now you’re traipsing off into the night with some _hooligan_ –”

Jesse raises an eyebrow and Harry shuts up, because he’s been trying to get better at that. “I’ll make you a deal,” she says testily. “You can leave whenever you want. Right now, even. But I will text you one update for every speed date you go on.”

Harry looks at his daughter. At the word _Cingles_. Back at his daughter. Making a show of resistance, as if he and Jesse didn’t both already know that she keeps his heart in the shoebox under her bed. “Fine,” he groans. “Deal.”

—

The upsettingly chipper MC makes them break into two lines, men and women. Harry rolls his eyes at that – rolls them right into accidental eye contact with the man next to him, who mouths something that looks like “ _straights_ ” and does a little eyebrow wiggle before looking away. Harry almost feels himself smile, then remembers where he is and what he’s doing.

The two lines file into the gym and around the concentric circles of two-tops, women on the inside and men on the outside. There’s some kind of horrible, jangly music playing. Eyebrow Wiggle is still in front of Harry, his long black hair looking better in the dank yellow light than it has any right to. Harry finds this vaguely annoying.

The music stops and a bell dings, which Harry doesn’t need any of his PhDs to know means that musical chairs is over. He yanks out the nearest chair and sits.

A perfectly acceptable-looking woman takes her seat across from him. Harry’s actually about to try to make the best of it when her eyes go wide. “Are you Harrison –”

“No,” he growls.

“But wait, no, I definitely saw you on the cover of –”

“I’ve got one of those faces.” Harry swears he hears Eyebrow Wiggle stifle a snort.

—

_One down,_ he texts Jesse.

_omg incredible,_ she texts back immediately. _your reward: wally and i are getting thai food_

_Which place?_

_nuh uh one (1) piece of info per date that was the deal_

“A gymnasium practically _overflowing_ with ladies,” he hears a voice say, “and you’re still texting a side piece?”

Harry looks up to see Eyebrow Wiggle slurping his complementary Solo cup of gas-station wine at him. “Gross. I’ll have you know I’m texting my daughter.”

“Aw!” Eyebrow slides immediately from teasing to earnest. Harry can’t decide which expression is more appealing. “Checking in on her?”

“It’s a, uh, mutual checking-in.” Harry rubs his thumb over the edge of his phone and tries not to laser-focus on the other man’s lips on the brim of his cup. “She made me come to this, so I’m sending her updates, and in exchange she’s telling me about the date she’s on.”

“Aha.” Eyebrow inclines his cup in Harry’s direction. “Clever girl.”

Harry snorts. “She got sick of people quoting that line at her around age five.”

“Okay, well tell her –”

The bell interrupts whatever Eyebrow Wiggle was about to say, and he chugs the rest of his drink and gets up to rotate tables. Harry follows, and sits down to another wide-eyed woman, and waits for the five minutes to be up.

—

_Two._

_okay we’re at pom rhak khun and wally ordered the pad see ewe so i think you’d approve of him_

_I’m not that easily impressed._

_that was technically two details you don’t get to grump at me_

“So you just have to tell her when the dates are over?”

Harry jumps. Eyebrow Wiggle is leaning towards him, squinting at his phone and gnawing on his empty Solo cup. “Yes, just confirm that they’ve occurred,” Harry says, his heart pounding from surprise and not from anything else.

“So if you, say, took a quick break to go get more shitty wine with me, your daughter wouldn’t have to be any the wiser?”

Harry stares at the man, at his grin-plump cheeks and his t-shirt that has Einstein’s face and block letters reading _I think you’re special and I don’t mean relatively_. He swallows. “It’s a date.”

—

Cisco (his name is Cisco, Harry learns without having to ask) passes Harry a Solo cup and takes a gulp from his own. “Text your daughter,” he says with another sunshiney smile. “It’s been six whole minutes, she’s probably starting to worry.”

Harry pulls out his phone and tries to ignore the feel of Cisco’s eyes on him. _Three._

_hm okay wally’s favorite star trek movie is the voyage home_

“Dealbreaker,” Harry mutters, at the same time Cisco does. Harry looks up to find that, in the process of snooping on his texts, Cisco has gotten very close.

“Thank you,” Cisco says with a laugh. “ _Voyage Home_ is hilarious and all, but nothing beats _Wrath of Khan_.”

Harry means to say something about raw emotionality and thematic cohesion. “Why are you here?” he says instead, for some godawful reason.

Cisco wrinkles his nose, like he really did want to keep talking about _Star Trek_. “Uh, to shut my friends up?”

Harry frowns. “Elaborate.”

“My friends have been and will always be way too invested in getting me laid. The end.”

Harry nearly spits his mouthful of wine back into the cup. “So you’re here to –” Cisco’s eyes widen, awestruck. “Nevermind.”

“Are you asking me if I’m _down to clown_ , Harry?”

Cisco’s not running away, he might even be smiling wider, actually, and Harry hates stupid euphemisms for sex and he hates graphic t-shirts and he hates any event where he has to talk to people but he sure doesn’t hate the way Cisco’s mouth curves slowly into every grin like he’s savoring the taste of it –

“Depends on your answer,” Harry manages to say.

Somewhere, the bell rings. Cisco takes a moment to survey Harry over the rim of his cup, during which Harry briefly considers faking his own death and running away to an alternate dimension. But then Cisco leans toward him conspiratorially.

“Text your daughter that you’re blowing this popsicle stand,” he says, and Harry realizes that his lips are probably going to taste like cheap chardonnay, and he doesn’t hate that either. “That’s my answer.”

—

_I’m leaving now._

_what??? LAME_

_;)_

_w_

_what_

_dad_

_DAD WAS THAT A WINKY FACE WHAT_


End file.
